Tales of the Strangers
by OtterAndTerrier
Summary: When angst and cohabitation at Grimmauld Place become unbearable, Hermione comes up with an ultimate plan that will put everything into perspective. Was it only senseless snogging and sex what Ron could give her, and was that all he really wanted?
1. The Bet

**Summary: **The summer before Ron and Hermione set out on the most dangerous journey of their lives along with Harry turns out to be very different from any other summer at the Burrow, but not only because of the frightening prospect. It's different because Ron's feelings towards a certain brunette witch are clear. However, when angst and cohabitation at Grimmauld Place become unbearable, Hermione comes up with an ultimate plan that will put everything into perspective. Was it only senseless snogging and sex what this red-haired wizard could give her, and was that all he really wanted?

**Warning:** This is a half canon, half AU story. It takes place during DH, and some of the events that happen in the book are implied, but it's mostly AU. It's my take of "what would have happened if...?"

**A/N:** Written for the 2010 Ron and Hermione Big Bang at LiveJournal :D It was previously posted somewhere else, all of it, but I'm not telling so you can follow it here and I can create some expectation, haha.

It's a six-chapters story, which is great considering it's my second multi-chapter fic ever posted (that's so going to change soon!).

Such a long-winded thing has some inspirations: thanks to Diana Gabaldon, The Cure, U2, Poison, viria13Deviantart, inthelaurelsDeviantart, an online "expert in dating tips" bloke and **lillywmw**. Lilly's fight against the haters of her talent made me come up with the "brunette witch and red-haired wizard" idea in the first place ;)  
And of course, thank you J.K. Rowling for giving us such a great love story that inspired even the shyest of souls!

None of the characters depicted here belong to me and I'm in no way making money out of this.

I didn't get a lot of reviews when this was posted, so please leave some feedback if you liked it, and if you didn't!

~Dessi

* * *

_**Tales of the Strangers**_

_The most subtle analyst, the most acute observer, is scarcely successful in discovering more than a very small number of the unconscious motives that determine his conduct. ~ Gustave Le Bon_

**Chapter 1: The Bet**

Two different tapings roused Ron from his sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he rose on the bed and grunted.

'Morning to you, too,' said a grumpy female voice, as the door opened and his sister came in. She was about to say something, but instead nodded towards the window. 'Pigwidgeon is out there with a letter.'

That was the second taping, then. Ron pointed his wand to the window to let the tiny owl in; he soared clumsily inside, dropped the letter into his outstretched hands and circled around his head in mirth. Ron, however, ignored it. His heart skipped a beat as he read who it was from.

'Anything interesting there?'

'What do you want?' he said to Ginny, resolving to shove her off first.

'I want to take _The Standard Book of Spells Grade 6_ before you throw it away; I'll be needing it this year, and I'm afraid waiting till classes start would be too late,' the youngest Weasley said. 'Is it in a fair state?'

'Dunno. Fetch it from my trunk and see for yourself.'

Leaving the letter aside, he waited for Ginny to rummage through the mass of objects inside the school trunk.

'Seriously, Ron, can't you be a tad less messy? What is this?' She extracted a second book and examined it. When she got closer, smirking, Ron knew which book it was.

'Fred and George gave it to me for my birthday,' he replied, the tips of his ears burning.

'Has it been of any use to you yet?'

Ron stretched himself towards her and easily snatched the book from his sister's hands.

'Did you get what you came for?'

'Oh, indeed,' she said with a chuckle, and left the room with her new book.

Momentarily diverted, Ron stared at the book he was holding. He had not read it ever since he had unwrapped it, days after his seventeenth birthday and nearly deathly poisoning. And what an occasion that had been...

Hermione had come to visit him at the Hospital Wing for the first time since he'd been conscious. She had taken her time, going only when the shadows grew outside; delaying the moment, he thought, in which she would decide whether she was still furious at him or not. Her face looked neutral as she walked to his sickbed and stood at his feet, looking at him. He felt her piercing him with a gaze, that, he knew, was of relief. Hermione then looked away and said, 'Harry couldn't come again, so I came to see if you needed anything.'

How happy he had been to have convinced Lavender to leave him —or rather tricked her, pretending to be falling asleep again in a fresh weakness— an hour or so earlier.

He needed Hermione's mercy.

Yes, he thought.

'No,' he said. 'But... thanks—thanks for—'

'I was pleased to hear that you won't have further side-effects.'

That was what she had said next, although to Ron it sounded more like, 'I'm glad that you're alive.'

Having done with the formalities of her presence, Hermione had taken seat in front of him.

'Still have wrapped presents?' she asked, her voice softening, pointing at a small pile of parcels on the night stand.

'Didn't have time to check those,' Ron replied, sitting straight and fighting an urge to smile. 'Reckon they're Fred and George's...'

'Mine is there, too,' she said in a rush, barely spacing the words. 'Come on, open the twins' first.'

Ron tore open the first parcel to find a bunch of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' products and a card that read, _'And that shall be enough for five birthdays!'_ His eyes did not quite get in what he had got. He wanted to open _her_ present. He wondered which of the two remaining parcels it would be; but this was clear when Hermione took the flattest of them and handed it to him. It was a second present from the twins. The card said _'With extra cream and a cheery on top. Dig in, Ronnie.'_

Frowning, and having the slightest suspicion of that the present was not for Hermione's —or any decent girl's— eyes, to see, Ron tore the top part of the wrapping paper and peered.

'What is it?' Hermione asked.

Surprisingly enough, it was a book.

'About?' Hermione asked again.

'Jokes,' Ron said. He could not know it; the cover was unimportant in that moment. 'Pass me that one?'

'It's nothing, really. Just a couple of sweets,' Hermione said after she had handed him her own present. She then stood up rather briskly and said, 'Sorry, I've got to go; I need to have dinner fast to finish my assignment for... Well, good night, Ron.'

The flush spreading on her skin was rather noticeable before she left the circle of light the lamp next to Ron's bed cast. As soon as she was gone, Ron opened the square parcel.

Hermione had been right. It was nothing, really. A couple of sweets... Chocolate frogs, his favourite sweets. But nothing, really. His heart, which was hammering fast, said it. Nothing, really.

Trying to think of anything but that, he had paid a proper look at the book, and saw what it was. _12 Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_. He flipped through the bright coloured pages and understood enough to make his stomach turn over. At least it wasn't porn.

Back in his bedroom, Ron shook his head and remembered what he had been so eager to do. Read Hermione's letter.

_Dear Ron,_

_I arrived well and we are all right, thanks for asking. I'm pleased to read that your family is doing well too._

_It's a little impressive to learn that plans are already being made, but reassuring to know that Mad-Eye is in charge. I hope everything will work out._

_You know, I'm scared. But I'm still in. What I said to our friend, I meant it. And I'm sure you did as well, didn't you? Even though this means... well, a lot of things, really, far too many as to put them in a letter, but we will be with him whatever happens. We will be together, as always. Right?_

_Well, I'm glad to read that I'm invited to the wedding (that will be interesting—your mum has really coped with it, now, hasn't she? Still... I have never been to a wizards' wedding). And thanks for the invite to The Burrow. Regarding that, I might be going earlier than usual. I need to protect my parents first. I'm resolved to do it at any cost, and I've got a plan. I will tell you when I get there, of course, but I'm confident it will work._

_Hope you are enjoying summer already,_

_Hermione_

Those times when _love_ was added to the end of her letters were over. Ron smiled grimly at the thought. So she was coming. Soon. Still in his pyjamas, he searched in the depths of his trunk for ink and parchment.

* * *

As the drowsiness of an abundant lunch stepped in, Ron decided to go outside and lie under a tree, ready to finally examine what he had now picked to call "The Book".

Was it possible? He had said, once, that somebody should write a book about girls, but he did not know that such book in fact existed. He opened it at random.

_**Chapter 5: JEALOUSY KILLED THE LAD**_  
Why do girls try to make you insanely jealous? You've probably wondered that a thousand times while you turned around in bed, haven't you? Answer: to test your emotional strength. Showing jealousy is a sign of weakness, and a girl would do that to see if you are so desperate for her as to react. First of all, if you know you are desirable, you would not get jealous. Secondly, if you are insecure, you are not in control. She is. And girls want a bloke who is in control!

Of course, if the said witch is constantly flirting with your friends and eyeing you as you want to forget about your wand and exercise your knuckles, you ditch her and laugh when she comes back pleading to you the next day. Good luck next time, lassie.

At this point Ron snorted and broke in laughter. Nevertheless. a spark of understanding lit in his brain. It was true that Hermione went to Slughorn's party with McLaggen to get back at him. It had been plainly obvious. But in other situations, she had been annoyed with his inquires about her... foreign acquaintances. She never tried to make him jealous with that, and yet he did. Jealousy was not a good companion, apparently.

He skipped a few paragraphs until the end of the chapter. The last part said:

_Conclusion: A confident girl in her right senses needs a really emotionally strong masculine bloke to make her feel feminine. Behave like natural men. Don't be nice. Don't be a git, either. Dominant, not domineering. Be THE man!_

Ron moved on to the next chapter.

_**Chapter 6: IT STARTS WITH F FOR FUNNY**_  
It's not all romance and lame gifts and expensive flowers what smart girls want. A man's way to a woman's heart is laughter. If you can make her laugh, you can make her fall for you. But the girl will first test you to judge if you are worthy of her. And you generally won't have more than five seconds to make a good impression.  
Useful and harmless spells before you employ Rictumsempra:

Again, Ron skipped to the end of the chapter.

_Conclusion: If you often find yourself wishing your lady would gift your ears with the sound of her laugh more frequently than she does, don't wait to have other blokes making that happen. YOU have to make her laugh. _

That was all right. He did make her laugh, usually. Not when he meant it, though. And still, he was the one who made her laugh. Ron decided he would have to pay attention to that chapter later, to see if there was a way to discern when she was laughing _with you_ and when she was laughing _at you_.

He breathed in heavily, and then let the air out slowly. Every time he thought of Hermione in an imaginary scenario, she was laughing, a charming ringing noise; her white teeth showing fully, long forgotten were the times she would feel awkward about her large front teeth; her hair would be barely pinned back from her face, but otherwise falling around her. They were alone. And above all, they were not facing an uncertain, threateningly dangerous prospect ahead.

* * *

Time seemed to travel slowly this summer. Every day was filled with exchanges between his mother and his soon-to-be sister-in-law, not impolite and tense exchanges as they had been the previous year, but extremely boring for somebody who was not slightly interested in matching patterns or delicate-looking food. Every day was also filled with thoughts of possible plans, because once Ron left, he would be exposing his family. He knew that. His anxiety for Harry and Hermione grew, too. There was still some time left before the day Harry would arrive, safely escorted. Muggles were killed almost every week.

Ron couldn't stop worrying.

But at least she was coming soon. One day and—

'Truth or dare?'

'Kiss or promise?'

Ron jumped back violently, bumping his head against the window pane of his bedroom.

'Bloody hell, what do you arseholes want from me now?' Ron asked furiously, rubbing where it hurt and glaring at Fred and George, who were smirking.

'We'll overlook that polite remark, little brother,' said George.

'Now answer,' said Fred.

Ron looked struck. 'Answer what?'

'Truth or dare?'

'Kiss or promise?'

The twins appeared candid.

'Are you kidding me?' snorted Ron. 'Find something to occupy yourselves with. And since when did you decide to bother people with that stupid game?'

'We didn't,' Fred replied, waving a hand impatiently.

'Only you have that privilege,' George bowed to Ron.

'We're still waiting,' urged Fred.

'We're busy people, unlike you,' added George.

'So, what do you say?' both twins asked at the same time.

'Let me see, I say... get out my room!' Ron shouted, pointing at the door with his wand.

'We'll play with or without your input,' George told him. 'That wouldn't actually be a problem, since you can barely use a wand to stir a cauldron.'

'Then it's without me—'

'Did I say without you or without your consent?' George asked his identical brother.

Ron raised his eyebrows until they were high enough as to blend with his hair.

'Never mind, I'm leaving—'

'_Inarcerous!_' exclaimed Fred, pointing his wand lazily at Ron, who was now tied with silver ropes, his wand pressed against him and shooting sparks at the ceiling, and was now hovering over his own bed.

'Truth,' said Fred, sitting next to Ron and propping one arm around his brother's shoulder. 'Who's Ronnie's secret crush?'

'What the hell do you care?' Ron replied, struggling for freedom.

'It's Miss Bookworm!' answered George, raising a hand and jumping. 'Kiss.'

'He's got to kiss her—on the mouth,' said Fred, rubbing his hands together.

'Snog or tongue-free?' George asked.

'What do you think, Ron?'

'Are you mental? Let me go or—' said Ron, who had turned scarlet and was trying to point his wand to the twins.

'A bit of snogging will do him some good.' Fred nodded to George. 'Dare!'

'I dare him...' George started, a wicked grin spreading across his face, as Ron kicked the air with his immobilized feet, anger boiling inside him, '...to say he's not in love after she kisses him back.'

'I'd dare him to stop kissing her once she kisses him back, but it's your turn,' Fred shook his head.

'Promise,' said George.

'I promise...' Now Fred's eyes looked really threatening, '...that the worse thing he could dread —yet to be decided— will happen to our little Ronnie if he's too much of a chicken and turns down the bet.'

With a last nod, George said, '_Impedimenta!_' Fred exclaimed, '_Evanesco!_'. And Ron found himself rope-free but completely still.

'Remember, _it wasn't a dream_,' Fred whispered spookily, waving his arms in front of Ron.

'We've settled this with your total agreement and pacific behaviour, brother,' George said, ruffling Ron's hair before walking to the door.

'And obviously, coming from us, it's not a joke. So you better do it,' Fred shouted, only his waving hand visible now from inside the room.

As soon as Ron sensed he was free of the spell, he gave a furious roar and raced downstairs, where Bill read the newspaper.

'Ron, what's the problem?' he asked, frowning in concern.

'Where the hell have the wankers gone?'

'If by that I take you're looking for George and Fred,' replied Bill, lounging back on his seat, 'they went back to the shop just minutes ago.'

Ron stamped up the stairs, back to the attic. The evening was falling when he threw himself on the bed; his fists closed tight and his blood rushing as thunder to his head. Did they really know, or were the twins just making him feel like a fool using the only girl they knew was close to him?

Hermione was coming the following day. She had consented on telling him that her plan to protect her parents was to send them away, but nothing else. And she did not want to stay alone in that house, as she had told Ron in her last letter, which contained, as proof of her misery, two blurry wet spots.

She had previously spent four summers at the Burrow; always coming earlier than Harry, who was locked in his horrible room at Privet Drive. This time it was different, though, even more different than the previous year, when his feelings were still confusing and merged with Fleur's beautiful aura. This time...

'Hey Ron,' a familiar voice called him from the doorway. Ron lifted his head from the pillow: he had dozed off. 'Dinner's nearly ready.'

'Good, I'm starving,' he mumbled to Ginny, running a hand through his hair, which stood up in messy rebellion.

'What a surprise,' another female voice said, and he stopped dead.

'Hermione? What—er, what are you doing here?' he said, knowing he was turning red in the semi-darkness. What had he been dreaming about?

Hermione looked insulted.

'If my presence is not welcome here, then you should have written me before I came, Ron,' she said coldly.

'Don't say rubbish, I meant—weren't you coming tomorrow morning?'

The perspective of having Hermione a day before they had agreed was somewhat compromising. He would have to figure out how to avoid the bet set on him, and soon.

'I was,' Hermione replied, still resentful. 'But... my parents left today, and even though—even though I said I'd stay the night at home, I—'

As Ron got up from the bed and came near, he saw her eyes were wet. She covered up her fresh weakness by saying, 'Dinner is ready. You can tell me later how you're doing and everything else, unless you want to pretend I arrive until tomorrow and ignore me till then.'

In spite of his feelings, which never seemed to agree on whether he actually wanted to be close to her or as far away as possible, and even though he still had to find a way around that stupid game, Ron knew what Hermione must have felt in those moments. After all, he was still her friend.

Ron grinned at her.

'C'mon; I'll catch you up on the way downstairs.'

Hermione gave him a little push as he left the room.

* * *

More than an hour after dinner, Hermione stepped into Ginny's bedroom, which they now shared and where the red-haired was already lying flat on her stomach, feet on the air, flipping through a wizards' magazine.

'Ginny, I expected you to join us in Ron's bedroom,' Hermione said, opening her trunk and rummaging for her pyjamas.

'Don't worry about me,' Ginny replied, throwing the magazine to the desk opposite and looking at the vague smile on Hermione's face. 'What about you?'

'I'm fine,' shrugged Hermione. 'Ron was just telling me about everything he didn't mention in his letters.'

'Really?' Ginny jumped on her bed, sitting up straight. 'And that was...?'

'About the plan to bring Harry here,' Hermione said, puzzled.

'Ah,' Ginny sighed, more disappointed than annoyed. 'That's all?'

'All? Don't you realize how dangerous it will be?' Hermione asked her sitting on her cot bed. 'And I'm not sure that Harry will like it—'

'Sorry for interrupting, Hermione, but I don't want to talk about that right now. They left me out of it.'

Hermione sensed the bitterness in her tone.

'I'm really so—'

'But didn't you talk about yourselves?'

Hermione rolled eyes but chuckled, as she took the magazine Ginny had been reading.

'Ourselves? What does that mean?'

'Hermione, you're so smart and yet so naive,' snorted Ginny.

'Am naive?' Hermione retorted, outraged. 'Who advised you about moving on and going out with other boys? Who was the first one to congratulate you every time, but especially last year? How _grateful_ you are!'

'No, I didn't mean that,' Ginny appeased her. 'What I meant is that you see _around_ you, but you don't see inside you. And we both know you have something to tell me, so spit it.'

'I have nothing—'

'Why are you doing this, Hermione?'

'Please, Ginny, I'm not doing anything! I really can't tell you—'

'Look, I'm not asking you to tell me anything about... about that mysterious trip you're—'

'How do you know?' Hermione piped up, giving up on the magazine and jumping to her feet.

'That's why Harry and I—' She stopped and took a deep breath. Hermione understood why, and she nodded. 'And I know you and Ron... Well, you wouldn't leave him on his own.'

'You're very perceptive.'

Ginny shot a glare at her.

'I only want to know... How are things with Ron?'

'Regular. Can I go wash my teeth now?' Hermione said, and without Ginny's consent, she fetched her toilet case and left.

* * *

Toothbrush in hand, Hermione made her way up back to the third landing. Her eyes wandered over the worn, old walls, thinking of the family that lived inside them. The Weasleys could be poor, but they always had each other. She had felt jealous of them since the first time she had met them all, three years ago. Jealous of how all of them would help Mrs. Weasley to set the table; how they would chatter happily as they served themselves enormous portions of food (that's when she discovered where Ron's greediness came from); how they would argue, but as soon as Mrs. Weasley would glare at them and they would stop; or how Mr. Weasley would ask her all about her life as a Muggle-born, her house, her parents' habits. Her and her parents were barely a tiny knot compared to them, and they had shifted apart so helplessly that she could not help but be jealous of the Weasleys. It was a home, welcoming and open to everybody.

Oblivious as she was of the way, Hermione bumped against a broad back as she walked through the landing. She fell over somebody on the floor, and she could see clothing scattered everywhere around them.

'Sorry!' she squeaked, rolling over to the floor. Thankfully, the red-haired was Ron, who was cursing soundly until Hermione spoke.

'Ah, it's you,' he said, his face flushing. 'I take back the cursing, but you should pay attention, Hermione.'

She offered a hand to help him get to his feet, and they set on gathering the clothes, all Ron's and smelling of soap.

'Well, I'm sorry, again.' She put the last pair of socks on the now messy bundle in his arms. Frowning, she pointed her wand and made a neat pile of folded clothes out of it. 'That's better.'

'Yeah, thanks for that.' Ron didn't look grumpy anymore. 'I—er, well, goodnight, I suppose.'

His eyes lingered on her and she opened her mouth, but not a sound came out of it. He thought she looked lovely: baggy pyjamas on, her hair going wild past her shoulders, her lips red from the contact with fresh water and a scent of spearmint gushing from them. He bent over, trying not to let go of the clothes as he did so, and kissed Hermione on her cheek. He then hurried to walk away, passing George, who, Hermione could see, turned casually around to follow Ron upstairs.

'Goodnight, Ron,' Ginny heard Hermione mumbling before the latter slipped through the door, a blush spreading across her face.

'What was that?'

'What?' Hermione responded startled, realizing where she actually was. 'I ran into your brother on the way back here, why?'

Ginny stayed expectant for a few seconds. 'Let's play truth or dare.'

'No way,' snorted Hermione, getting inside her sheets, where Ginny could not wheedle anything out of her. But the younger Weasley was not that easy to convince.

'Why can't you be open with me? Do you think I wouldn't be understanding or something?' Hermione was about to retort, but Ginny added, 'Let's not pretend.'

'Look,' Hermione began, a trace of exhaustion in her voice. 'I know quite well what my feelings are. But not only do I think it's unlikely that they are reciprocated for now, it's also not the right time. We've got more important things to work out right now. So please, please, don't make me switch bedrooms with Fleur.'

* * *

'So? You saw it George, I did it,' Ron said furiously.

'You can't trick me, Ron; a kiss on her cheek wasn't the deal.'

'Cheek? How disappointing, that's not even close.' Fred shook his head.

'It wasn't on the cheek!'

'It was exactly here,' George said, putting a finger two inches above Ron's right corner of his mouth. 'And it was a goodnight kiss.'

'You know, I wouldn't be surprised if it had been a mistake,' Fred added, talking directly to his twin.

'It was not a mistake, and I—' Ron gave up shouting and, instead, dropped himself on his bed. 'What exactly are you getting at with all this, can you bloody well tell me? Is it in revenge for something I did, or about some stupid experiment that will help develop a crappy joke? I know humiliating me has been kind of a sport for you, but since when have you stopped being amateurs to become professionals?'

'Ronnie, Ronnie...' Fred placed a hand on Ron's shoulder, which he shook off at once. 'Why are you doing this if you don't really want to, have you taken a moment to think?'

'You cursed me, in case you don't remember, and threatened me to do it!'

'But haven't you searched into the depths of your soul, my dear boy, for the real reason?' George replied, adopting an expression of extreme wisdom and putting both hands on Ron's head. 'Do you really kid yourself thinking that our poor threat is what moves you to do it?'

'Poor threat! I haven't forgotten the time you hung me down the crab apple tree because I didn't want to 'borrow' Charlie's broom for you, not to mention that I dread spiders ever since—'

'But you know that's not the real reason, son,' George went on, keeping his mystical voice.

'The reason is that you actually want to do it,' completed Fred. 'You won't be able to carry on without doing it, you desire to do it with every string of your body, you—'

'I get it!' said Ron, but then he added, 'Do what?'

'Kiss Hermione!' both Fred and George exclaimed.

'Shut up!' Ron strode to the door and peered outside, then closed it again. 'Shut up, I don't—Why would I?'

'You fancy her.'

'Don't!'

'Then kiss her and prove it.'

'She's my best friend, do you expect me to kiss her and then go "No, sorry, I was just checking, now let's move on"?' Ron looked close to desperation.

'Trust us.'

'You won't need to say that.'

'And you will owe us something in the end.'

'Honestly, I hope he won't thank us, Fred, he can get a little dull when he wants to.'

'What are you thinking—?' began Ron, but Fred held a hand.

'Enough chatting for today, now do us a favour and don't think about it anymore. Just do it and that's it.'

'We can always charm her and pretend nothing ever happened here,' added George.

'We're leaving with Harry soon!'

'That'll give you some time alone.'

'She's the cleverest witch of her age!' Ron replied, close to despair.

'And we are the prankest pranksters of our age.'

'Seriously, Ron, use your brains. And a certain book.'


	2. One Fail Safe Way to Charm a Witch

_Thanks to everybody who liked it and reviewed! Hope your expectations will be fulfilled ;) Now without delay, what will be Ron's next move?_

* * *

**Chapter 2: One Fail-Safe Way to Charm a Witch **

Ginny drew the bowl of oats towards her and glanced sideways to the doorway from the kitchen.

'Do you boys really think it's going to work?' she asked doubtfully to Fred, who was sitting opposite to her.

'Sure.'

Ginny stared at him. 'That's all? You're sure? What if they end up worse than they were? Ron would never forgive us—'

'Relax, Gin. You've said you've been sure of Hermione's feelings for quite a while. And Ron gets rather like an idiot when a letter from her arrives.'

'We aren't stupid,' said George, who had just Apparated behind his sister.

'Hermione came up to my bedroom smiling last night, you know. She said she had run into Ron,' added Ginny.

'Well, last night was Ron's first attempt.'

'Really?'

'A very poor attempt, if you ask us. He kissed her here,' George showed the place. 'Not even close. But he will do it in the end.'

'He must.' Ginny's tone was almost imploring.

'Why is it so important to you that they get together as soon as possible, anyway?' Fred inquired. 'Why have you made us give him the book, and threaten him, and all?'

'Because... because they're leaving. They are going with Harry, wherever he is going, I know it.' There was a hard note in Ginny's voice now, but her eyes were bright. 'Harry will need them both. And Ron... you know how Ron is. He will need somebody too. He has absolutely no confidence in himself. He needs Hermione to hold him together. That way they both will be able to help Harry...'

Fred and George said nothing, but Ginny sighed.

'They do look cute together.'

'Who looks cute?' asked Hermione, walking into the kitchen with an air of interest. Fred pretended to choke over his crisps as George greedily served more bacon on his plate.

'Crookshanks,' Ginny replied hurriedly, grabbing the cat from the floor and stroking him.

'Crookshanks? But who—Good morning, Mrs Weasley!' Hermione said when Molly came in.

'Good morning, dear, did you sleep well last night?' She smiled at all of them kindly and waved her wand to add more food on the table. 'And where's Ron, hasn't he waken up yet? He's got to de-gnomize the garden today!'

'We're leaving to the shop now, Mum, see you!' the twins said.

'Ginny, go and wake up your brother,' Mrs Weasley ordered after the twins had Disapparated.

Her youngest daughter rolled eyes, leaving aside her empty plate, and set out to the upper floors.

Hermione passed Ginny when she was going to tidy up her stuff.

'Would you mind having a go and rouse my charming, snoring brother? He doesn't even stir! Shame I can't use magic yet, otherwise—'

'—his bedroom would be full of boggers, I know.'

* * *

'Come in,' grunted a voice at her first set of knocks. Hermione obeyed, but she had thought she would have had to knock harder.

'Hi. Ginny said you were still fast asleep.'

'Ginny? She hasn't been here, not that I know,' Ron replied, putting on his trainers.

'Of course she has, your mother sent her for you because you've got to de-gnomize the garden.'

'All right, but Ginny wasn't here. I woke up when the foolish ghoul started moaning, about half an hour ago.'

Ron looked up at her when he was done and saw that Hermione looked puzzled.

'Er, now if you don't mind I'll go and have breakfast. Will you?'

'No, I'm full.'

Hermione attempted to leave first, but Ron prevented her.

'Do you reckon you could help me with the garden? I haven't caught up with you yet.'

* * *

'Is there any way we can use magic for this?'

Hermione looked apprehensive about de-gnomizing after Ron had told her how they were supposed to do it.

'Sure. You can Stun them first so they won't struggle. Although,' Ron shrugged, 'it's not as fun that way. Or... you can kill them, if you prefer—'

'I wouldn't do such a thing!' Hermione exclaimed, horrified. Ron sniggered.

'All right, then, it's the old way. Don't let them bite you; they will see you can't handle them and they'll start playing boldly.'

Seeing that Hermione was not very willing to be bitten by gnomes or to cause them any real damage, Ron clicked his tongue, took out his wand, and shouted '_Impedimenta!_' at some gnomes that were looking for worms through a grown tuft of grass.

'Go on, make them dizzy and send them away! They'll be just fine, Hermione. We'll have to do this again before the wedding.'

When the last creature joined its fellows on the other side of the fence, some already free from the spell, Hermione dropped herself on the ground next to a bush, rubbing her arms.

'I had underestimated this job, immobilized gnomes or not.'

'The little plagues are well fed, yeah,' Ron said, grinning.

'And rather bad spoken, I daresay.'

One of the gnomes had called Ron 'bloody pumpkin poo', which had only caused it to be flung further away from its group and into a muddy trench.

'Not my fault.' Hermione raised her eyebrows. 'Well, I _may_ have cursed when they get a bit aggressive, but I didn't teach them that bit of _'pumpkin poo'_. What does that even mean?'

Hermione was shaking with laughter as he shook his head disapprovingly at the gnome's occurrence, and soon he found himself caught by the sound, and started laughing as well.

He felt sorry when they stopped; even more when he decided to bring back the matter that was unclear in his mind and which she had carefully avoided since her arrival.

'Hermione... do you feel like telling me what exactly have you done with your parents?'

She looked startled; however, she sighed and nodded.

'I've sent them to Australia.'

'But... what did you tell them so that they agreed?'

Hermione bit her bottom lip and wrapped her hands together, in an attempt to keep her steady.

'They didn't agree... because I've modified their memories.'

'You did what?'

'I've been afraid to death since last year, when the Death Eaters started killing Muggles for fun, that my parents could be chosen at random. I had even managed to settle a few protective jinxes around our home, to keep them safe when they were inside. Imagine now, when we're about to go on a search to bring down Voldemort! It won't be a quiet move, precisely. I've been thinking, ever since Dumbledore's... Dumbledore's funeral, and... well, I got back home and started planning it all and studying the spell.'

A lonely tear was rolling down Hermione's cheek. Soon, more joined it. A tight knot was growing in Ron's stomach. What should he do? He had never had to comfort a girl. Ginny was tough, and she tended to cover her weaknesses. But Hermione was different and she wasn't his sister. He wanted to tell her that everything would be fine, that her parents were safe, that she was safe, and that he was there for her. The problem was how. With words? With a hug?

He decided to keep talking for now.

'Why Australia?'

'I don't know... They had mentioned a couple of times what a beautiful holiday spot it was, so I...' She swallowed. '...I gave them a new identity. They're called Wilkins now, and they have been dreaming of moving permanently to Australia for years. The Death Eaters wouldn't go that far away, would they?'

She remained in silence. Ron was unsure about continuing to ask her about something that obviously caused her pain.

'I think I did it right. You know, I had to pack everything for them and... and hide when they left. They looked glad to leave. I made sure to make them believe they really had nothing to care about here.'

Hermione was silently crying again, her face slightly turned away from Ron. He reached a hand and squeezed her shoulder. That was as much as he dared doing.

'You should have owled me. You were... very brave to do that alone. Why didn't you tell me?'

'It wasn't a big deal,' she said, dismissing his concern by wiping her eyes. 'I didn't want to bother anybody with this.'

A loud snort came from Ron, and she looked up.

'You rather bear it all by yourself than let somebody helps you? How smart you are!'

She half smiled. 'Yes, not very bright after all.'

'Of course not, who said you were?' Ron teased her, encouraged by the small, almost invisible, upturn of her lips he was so trained to spot. Sometimes he thought he was the only one able to see it. 'I've sort of been thinking too, of a way to protect them.' Ron directed his gaze to the crooked Burrow. 'You know, they have always been the ones to protect me, and now... It's kind of weird to think I've got to do it, because I can be the one to put them in danger.'

'Have you told them that we're not going back to Hogwarts this year?'

'No. The first weeks we've all been taking care of Bill, keeping our eyes open to see how the moon affected him—'

'Is he—?'

'No, not a werewolf. Just got some habits, as Madam Pomfrey said he would. After that, the Order's been spending a lot of time here, hearing what Dad has to say about the going as the Ministry. Now that Dumbledore's no longer a threat and Harry's turning seventeen, they're expecting You-Know-Who to take the lead at any moment.' Ron could not suppress a shudder. 'And Mum has the wedding to keep her head busy—and all of us as well.'

He turned to look at Hermione again.

'I was hoping that, er... that we could tell them together? Well, actually, not to Mum... yeah, that'd be the best.'

Hermione smiled in sympathy.

'Of course, yes.'

* * *

They were not able to talk to Mr. Weasley that day; he had come back home only for dinner. Tonks and Moody, invited to stay, were already waiting for him to exchange news. Ron waited, then, until the following afternoon, and arranged a private meeting under the pretext of helping tidy up 's shed before the wedding, accompanied by Hermione.

Sometime after dinner, Hermione found herself turning around on the bed, her mouth bone-dry and the breeze blowing through Ginny's bedroom window not enough. She tried to gently call Ginny a couple of times, but at the lack of response, she put on her slippers and sneaked out to the corridor.

She met nobody in the darkness on her way down to the kitchen. Her intentions were to pour herself a glass of pumpkin juice to try to beat the heat and her declared insomnia.

Hermione felt rather awkward, though; she was at somebody else's house, a place that was partly a sanctuary, and no matter how familiar she had grown to be about the Burrow, she was not one for midnight strolls out and about. She somewhat felt like a thief. Besides, the pyjamas she was wearing were flimsy and short, surely made for warm nights like that night, and she definitely would feel awkward exposing her legs to any Weasley member. Or almost any, for there was one Weasley who had seen them before.

She had barely reached the kitchen and wondered where she could get a goblet, when she heard she was not the only one with trouble sleeping.

From the close-by sitting room came a muffled giggle, a hushing, and some whispering. One of the voices had a guttural tone. Hermione guessed who they were. Mrs. Weasley had been very strict, although she had not needed words, and the future groom and bride had never shared a room under that roof. _A bedroom_, Hermione thought.

She was in a pickle now. There was no way out of the kitchen and to Ginny's bedroom without walking through the kitchen, since Apparation was impossible. The other possibility was staying there and waiting for Bill and Fleur to leave, but, whatever they were about to do, Hermione was not willing to eavesdrop on. And there was the problem of what to do if they decided to get a late snack, too.

Before she could react, a warm, big hand took her by the wrist and tugged of her. It took her so off-guard that Hermione could not even gasp in surprise.

When she was out, in the wonderfully cooler threshold of the house, Hermione turned to check that it was Ron the one still holding her arm.

'What were you doing there?'

He had to have been there before she arrived; otherwise she would have seen him walking in. Except that the room was pitch-dark.

'I was on my way out when you came. You scared the hell out of me, wandering in the dark. Then they came,' Ron explained, letting go of her. Hermione quietly regretted it. 'Sorry to drag you out too.'

'I should thank you, it's better than to still be there, isn't it?'

Ron gave a crooked grin. 'Yeah. What were you doing, anyway?'

'I was thirsty.'

'Oh, sorry. You'll stay thirsty for a while, I reckon.'

She chuckled, before asking, 'And why were you going out?'

'Um... to clear up thoughts and have some fresh air. It's suffocating up there.'

He climbed down the pair of steps leading to the yard and turned to Hermione.

'Do you want to come or you rather wait until they clear the way?'

Hermione followed him. To go back to bed would turn into more wasting of time than immediate sleep.

They walked a good way silently. Hermione thanked the fact that he was not making a faster use of his long legs. There was no moon shining and the yard was dark, making her trip on stones and bump into small bushes. Ron walked as if the place had been lit with the brightest sun.

Given the circumstances, Hermione had no idea where he was aiming, but she suddenly saw bigger dark masses of branches ahead and recognized them as the fruit trees in the orchard.

Ron went beyond the trees that circled the field where they, Ginny and Harry had played Quidditch the previous summer, and a stream of water appeared out of nothing, glimmering with the countless stars reflected from above. It was not wide, nor it seemed too deep, and on the other side, the ground sloped down the hill the Burrow stood on, into the village of Ottery St. Catchpole.

'I had never seen this here,' Hermione said, speaking for the first time since they had walked away from the house.

'Oh?' Ron seemed to have forgotten she was there. 'We used to come here to swim, or... well, it's not deep enough to swim, but we splashed around. Mum didn't want us to because it's uncovered by the trees; we could have been spotted from the village, you see.'

He sat down on the grass; legs crossed, and dipped a hand into the water, breaking the velvety surface. Hermione sat down next to him a little gingerly.

'You had a great plan, after all. Why didn't you tell me before?'

She could not see his face; however, she could notice he was embarrassed when he answered, keeping his voice low.

'I thought you'd say it was foolish and wasn't going to work.'

Taken aback, Hermione felt embarrassed herself.

'It's not foolish! It's a great idea! Of course your family can't go into hiding, and I was also thinking that it was highly likely they would come here first if you disappeared with Harry and me. But I would have never thought of this.' She felt her face competing with the hot air surrounding them, and suddenly, her bare legs were submerged into the water up to her calves. 'I think it's brilliant. You thought very well of it.'

'Not that much,' Ron replied, although his voice sounded rather strangled. 'Many... many details need to still be arranged. And I don't think my plan will take as much courage as yours did.'

A weak snort came from Hermione's shadowy form.

'You'll be lucky, then. You are lucky, as a matter of fact.'

'Why is that?'

'Well, your family at least knows about it. Your mum will know, sooner or later. And they will be worrying about you from the moment we leave.'

'That makes me the one who they'll be worrying about,' Ron said grimly. 'It doesn't make me feel great, believe me.'

'I don't mean that.' Hermione moved her legs scissor-like in slow motion through the water. She felt very much like changing of topic. 'It's a really great sight from here, isn't it?'

Ron gave a confirmatory sound and looked sideways to her.

'Really great.'


	3. Last Dance, Then London

_Here's the third chapter, for those who were asking for more! I'm very happy that you're liking it so far, really. I'm afraid here comes the part when I start writing over the canon story: please excuse me and try to forget about the book as much as possible. It might get confusing if you think in those terms, because some things I kept them and some things were changed for the sake of my own plot._

_A million thanks for all the reviews, and the favourites, and people following me; it's a really wonderful and warm feeling ^-^_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter 3: Last Dance, Then London **

'Hang on, Harry— over here, Ron! '

Hermione had no idea what was on Harry's mind in that moment, but for once, she did not care much. Ron was looking for her through the crowded dance floor, holding two goblets with Butterbeer.

'Hey mate, having a nice time?' he asked when he reached Harry and Hermione. Ron slightly out of breath and visibly flustered.

'Interesting, yeah, ' Harry mumbled, making up his mind about telling him anything of what he had just heard. First, because Hermione was there, and he did not feel like bearing her contradicting everything he said. Second, because Hermione was there, and Ron happened to be paying a lot more of his attention to her than to Harry.

'D'you want me to get you a Butterbeer? ' Ron offered.

'No, it's okay. '

His sight wandered, and once again, he saw Ginny, now staring at him and leaning on a golden pole. Then he realised that Ron was staring at him too.

'I should probably go to sleep now—'

'Sleep, you say? ' a dreamy yet cheerful voice inquired, and Luna appeared from a cloud of dancing couples. 'Come, Harry, let's dance! '

After the other two's encouraging looks, he followed Luna.

'So where were we? ' Ron said to Hermione, handing her one of the goblets and smiling at his good luck.

'You were telling me about how your uncle Bilius accidentally saved you from choking, barely hours after you were born, ' she replied, taking a sip of the drink.

'Oh yeah... well, so that's why they named me after him, because they hadn't really picked my middle name, ' Ron finished.

'Please tell me the name is the only thing you've inherited from him.'

He roared with laughter but soon choked, when Muriel turned around in her seat to see who was making such a scandal.

'It's you, Ronald, who else! I didn't recognise you with all that hair; otherwise I would have talked to you before!'

Hermione gave a commitment smile when Muriel chose to look at her instead.

'Are you planning on introducing me to your friend? ' she barked at Ron.

'But I think you know her—'

'Of course we haven't been introduced, Ronald. Do as I say!'

'Auntie Muriel, this is Hermione Granger, from Hogwarts.'

'I know who she is, you dung head, you have been blabbering about her every time we met! I meant that you should tell her who I am!'

'Hermione, my aunt Muriel; Hermione, would you mind joining me so I can introduce you to... um, my cousin Barnaby?'

Ignoring the shouts of 'Barnaby, that gambler who almost wagered his own son?', Ron took Hermione by the wrist and pulled her away from Muriel.

'You are introducing me to _who_, now?'

'Nobody.'

They ran until they reached the opposite side of the canopy; Ron took a couple of glasses of champagne from a forgotten tray and offered one to her.

'For being free from Muriel,' he said, raising the glass in a toast.

Hermione raised hers and both drank them down.

'Do you tell many of your crazy relatives about me?' Hermione piped up, adding in a hurry, 'I mean, do you tell them how I nag you all the time so you pick up a book and study, or what?'

Ron's ears went red before he said, 'I must have mentioned you and Harry a couple of times in front of her; we don't see her that much.'

'A drink, sir, lady?' asked a waiter.

When Hermione took a rather large sip of the drink, she discovered it was not Butterbeer but Firewhiskey. She dropped the goblet, which disappeared rolling into the darkness.

'Disgusting!' she shrieked, feeling her throat burning.

'Come on, let's look for your goblet,' said Ron, chuckling; leaving his own goblet, they trotted down the slope that came out of the canopy.

'Mind that step!' Ron shouted, since he knew the orchard by hand.

Too late. Hermione staggered behind him in the uneven yard and fell in Ron's quick arms. Their weight together was too much for the unsteady position he was in after catching her. Ron's back was prevented from hitting the hard ground by a fortunate bed of shamrocks.

'Ron... I'm really sorry, Ron, are you all right?' she asked, lifting her head from his chest to check on his face.

'Yeah... You?' he replied, struggling to catch some air.

His arms were around her waist, and beneath the soft fabric he could feel her fast breathing.

Hermione found his eyes. Her head felt light and dizzy, but she knew she could not be drunk. She wondered what would happen if she kissed him right there. _Why doesn't he kiss me?_ Neither of them said a word.

Sighing, Hermione rolled over to lie next to Ron on the soft shamrocks.

'It's too complicated, isn't it?' Ron mumbled, gloomily. 'Why? '

'Because we aren't sure. It could be a fleeting thing.'

'To me it's been coming for...'

'I know.'

Silence.

'Because we are going away with Harry. If we screw it, it would be harder than...'

'I don't want to screw it.'

'We already have, a little. What will happen tomorrow?'

'We're drunk. This night... this part of the night could have never happened.'

'Good.' Hermione turned to face him and put a hand on his chest. 'Because first I'd like to know how harder this will be.'

Ron gave no reply. He already had the answer; they both had it. Way too hard.

He looked at the starry summer sky. The canopy was barely visible from their spot.

'Is that Europa, the one covered in mice?'

'Ice. No, it's not.'

They forgot about the missing goblet.

* * *

The attic room looked nothing like it had for the past years. For once, Ron thought it did not belong to him anymore. All the empty candy wrappers that usually littered the floor were vanished; his text books were neatly piled on his desk; his wardrobe was tidy, with few clothing items in it. The only things that were Ron's bed and the camp bed Harry usually slept on.

Harry was already getting dressed when Ron opened his eyes.

'We have to leave as soon as possible, we've delayed it for too long,' Harry said, throwing Ron's clothes to him.

'Mhm. I've got a terrible head ache, though.'

'A hang over?' asked Harry, surprised. 'That's what you were doing last night, drinking?'

'Dunno, I don't wanna talk about it now, mind you?' grumbled Ron, pulling on a pair of jeans.

Harry smirked to himself and turned his back to him before asking, 'Why, anything happened between you and—?'

_'It's too complicated'_

_'I'd like to know how harder this will be.'_

'No, Potter, _nothing_ happened between me and nobody,' he replied, trying not to show any sign of bitterness.

He wished he would not run into her for at least a couple of hours, that he would not have to look her in the eye as if nothing had happened, or that they had been truly drunk, so they would not remember, like he did. However, it was an unfortunate day to ask for those things to happen.

Hermione knocked at the door and entered while they were taking a sweeping look around the bedroom.

'Are you ready yet?' she asked nervously, avoiding looking at Ron. 'Your dad is waiting for us downstairs. He's been really careful to avoid waking up your mother, so we must hurry up.'

Mr. Weasley looked at them with a concerned visage as the three climbed down the crooked staircase.

'Kids... I guess I should not call you kids anymore, should I?' He gave them a gloomy smile. 'It seems I cannot stop you. But I will plead you to take care and to look after each other.'

He stepped closer to Ron, looking him in the eye, blue with blue.

'I'm very proud of you. Please come back and...'

Ron simply hugged him, feeling a big knot in his throat. He could not say he would come back; he had no way of knowing.

'Remember to get the Ghoul down—'

'Yes, and tell your mother. She will probably yell at me for a couple of days,' he said, now smiling to himself. 'Grimmauld Place should be safe. Don't fear the jinxes yourselves. You know the location, so you'll be the next Guardians. If anything is wrong—'

'We'll manage, Mr. Weasley, don't worry,' Harry told him. 'Thank you... for everything.'

He, as Ron, and Hermione, did not want to realise that that could be the last time they stood at the Burrow, a place he had grown to love as his home, after Hogwarts.

Since Ron was not able to say another word, Harry murmured, 'Goodbye,' and the three of them left the house, a promisingly warm summer day already beating in the dark yard.

* * *

After an extensive revision of the grimy house of the Blacks, which revealed them it had been previously revised, they were lounging on the sofas of the first floor, their stomachs full of Mrs Weasley's delicious food, when a silver weasel became solid in front of their eyes. Speaking with Arthur Weasley's rushed voice, it said, 'The Ministry has fallen. Family's safe, but we're being watched. Do not reply.'

Hermione, who had gasped, was now approaching Ron, who looked bewildered.

'Ron...'

'Mate, I'm sorry,' Harry told him, still trying to understand what Mr Weasley had said. _The Ministry has fallen_... But how? When?

'We... we need to find those Horcruxes,' Ron replied, a couple of seconds later, his voice a little hoarse. 'Let's find out what happened to the Ministry so we can make a...'

'A plan, right,' Hermione agreed.

Nevertheless, they thought it was wiser to wait for the next day. Then there might be more information about what had happened, and also because they were probably being frantically searched for. Because of that, they went to sleep early; none of them felt like eating.

Hermione had a terrible night. She finally sat up on the bed, in that dark, damp-smelling room, and made her way downstairs.

She found Ron in the basement kitchen, having a glass of water.

'How are you?'

'Good. Just having...' He raised the glass. 'You, all right?'

'Yes... Ron...' She sat at the table and beckoned at him. 'I wasn't drunk last night.'

Ron merely looked at her, not knowing what to say.

'Me neither.'

Hermione looked expectant at him and snapped her tongue at last, frustrated.

'What? What do you want me to say, Hermione?' Ron replied, exasperating. 'That I didn't mean anything of what _almost_ happened?'

'No. That you did mean it.'

Ron turned to her rather startled; but she was not looking at him, she was instead playing with her wand.

'Will that change anything?' he mumbled.

'It will make me feel less...' _Less what? Less stupid? Less hopeless? Less lonely?_ All of that together, Hermione thought. She let out an angry sigh. 'It will make a difference.'

'How?' Ron's tone was of tired.

Hermione had thought this through, trying to convince herself, since before the wedding. A relationship could never survive under those circumstances, and they could not take the liberty to break up in a bad way and end up shattered or ruining their mission. It was too late for a real chance. She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes so she would avoid crying and looking at him.

'I don't know... What if we... we take it slowly? Perhaps, if this means nothing, if it doesn't work... we can stop it before we ruin everything.'

_I don't want to screw it,_ Ron recalled himself saying. He did not want to. A nod was all he gave as response.

Hermione gave him a little smile, trying to hide any sadness. He was probably too concerned about his family, too imbibed with some many other things, that this might seem trivial now, almost unimportant. _Too late for a real chance._

She reached for his hand to give it a little squeeze, then stood up and started making breakfast. He wished he had said something else.

* * *

After the two of them and Harry ate, Ron insisted to be the one who went out to search for a newspaper and have a look at the Ministry workers' reactions to the downfall, since he knew where the official entrance was.

He came back with that day's _Daily Prophet_, which he stole from a nervous wizard. Harry and Hermione seemed eager to talk to him, but they let him speak first.

'Scrimgeour is dead,' he said, catching his breath and throwing the newspaper on the table. 'They must've tortured him; I don't think they'd spare him just like that, but I reckon he didn't give you away. It says they've raided every house connected to the Order for you, though...'

Ron sat at the table and caught Hermione widening her eyes in horror when they reached the middle of the page.

'Oh yeah, and you're the most wanted person now, officially,' he added, with a gloomy grin.

'"...for questioning about the death of Albus Dumbledore"?' Harry read, outrage trembling in his voice. 'What is that supposed to mean?'

'Well, of course, Harry! They need an excuse for the rest of the wizarding world. They can't openly say that You-Know-Who is after you!' Hermione replied, angry as well. 'But who is this Pius Thicknesse?'

'Auror. He's the one who wanted to connect my uncle's house with the Floo Network. Mad-Eye said he was actually trapping me in.'

'This looks bad.'

'And... we're being watched,' Ron said. 'Snape probably told them about the house—'

'We know, we saw them. They didn't see you, did they?'

'No, they don't seem to know we're actually in here, they're just keeping an eye out.'

They said nothing for a moment, taking in the news, until Ron spoke again.

'Did you two find anything here?'

'Yes!' Harry exclaimed of a sudden, his evaporated excitement returning. 'We've found R.A.B.'

And they filled him in with the little they knew about Regulus Arcturus Black, Sirius' brother.

'We should ask Kreacher,' Hermione suggested. They did. What the elf told them left them cold and shocked. In the end, Ron finally understood what Hermione meant about oppression. They also found that Mundungus Fletcher had nicked the real locket, and Harry, presenting the elf with his master's locket, sent a totally changed Kreacher to find the old thief.

With their hopes renewed, they ate discussing what the _Daily Prophet_ said, and when they finished, Harry set on pacing up and down the house, while Hermione and Ron cleaned the table.

'I didn't want you to go this morning,' Hermione let out, as she washed the dishes.

'Somebody had to,' he replied quietly.

'What if you were caught?'

'You don't think I'm capable of—' started Ron, already frowning. He hated when she showed surprise at what he could do; it made his blood boil. But before he could get upset, she retorted, as if she was reading his mind.

'I'm just saying it was too dangerous.'

'Dangerous is something we've got to get used to, Hermione. We're on a mission to bring You-Know-Who down.'

'I know that!' she snapped.

'Well, then?'

'Nothing.'

Ron examined her as he handed her the goblets.

'Are you insinuating you should have gone instead?'

'Well, that would have made much more sense.'

'Are you mental?' Ron asked, raising his eyebrows. 'How on earth would that make sense at all?'

Hermione looked back at him with her eyes full of reproach. If he could not see it, she would not tell him. It was not part of their agreement that morning.

'Never mind, I am mental,' she replied, picking up _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_.

* * *

That afternoon, the number of watchers outside Grimmauld Place increased. There were six cloaked wizards by the time shadows covered the small square.

'For goodness' sake, Ron, will you stop it?' Hermione cried when the lights went out for the fifth time: Ron, with nothing to do, was examining the Deluminator Dumbledore had left him.

'Sorry! I don't realize!'

'Pay attention, then!'

Harry, sensing a new row, left the room. Ron looked puzzled at the doorway.

'What?'

'We pissed him off, you fool!' Hermione hissed. 'And also... he thought Kreacher would be back by now...'

Hermione was no longer in the mood for a row.

'Come on... do you want me to read out loud?'

'I know all of those stories by heart, Hermione,' Ron replied, although he didn't want to start a row either. He sat beside her on the sofa. 'Which one are you reading?'

'The Fountain of Fair Fortune,' Hermione answered, and smiling to herself, she began reading. When she finished and looked up, Ron was fast asleep. Slightly amused, she prodded him on the shoulder, causing him to fall on her lap with a soft snore. Making up her mind against waking him up, Hermione stared at him; his ears red from the heat of the room; his hair, a messy mop of red; the freckles of his arms standing against the pale skin.

She leant over him, resting her head somewhere close to his waist, and closed her eyes.

_The path to our fountain,_ she thought with sarcasm.


	4. Extremis Malis, Extrema Remedia

Sorry I took so long to publish this chapter! :s It's not because I don't have it written (duh!), just because I've had some other things to do and I completely forgot. I gope you'll enjoy it and leave lovely reviews :D I'm afraid this is the shortest chapter, though, but quite an exciting one, I daresay!

x

* * *

**Chapter 4: Extremis Malis, Extrema Remedia **

_Last night, I dreamt of you. I dreamt that, after you yelled at me, you climbed up to my bedroom and we settled matters. Then I dreamt that you were dreaming of me dreaming about you. And then I dreamt that this was over._

Ron nibbled at a toast without looking up. He had been forbidden to speak that morning.

Three days ago, Kreacher had returned, brining with him the scum they wanted to see in the hope that he would solve part of their worries. Mundungus Fletcher only added a new one: the locket that contained part of Voldemort's soul might be dangling from Dolores Umbridge's flabby neck. And they were to break discreetly into the Ministry of Magic to steal it.

In order to make a plan, they had started visiting the Ministry entry everyday in search for any valuable information of the place, its workers, and the new frightening regime.

That day was Hermione's turn to go. The previous night she had stated so, and they had argued. Harry too, but he gave up before Ron did.

'Ron, she _is_ right,' he had admitted in a tired tone. 'How many times Hermione has risked her neck and saved our lives?'

'I know that! I'm not calling her incapable of anything or a coward, but this is different!'

It really was. With a Muggle-born Registration Commission wanting to prove that magic could only pass from wizard to wizard and determined to lock in Azkaban for life every "so-called" Muggle-born. With Hermione's name standing out in the lists the _Daily Prophet_ provided, which encouraged Muggle-borns to present themselves for questioning—for a trial, actually—as if they were thieves, how could they, _he_, let her walk into the dragon's mouth and not be worried?

She was resolute to go. Ron would have dropped to his knees and caught hold of her robes to stop her, if he knew it would be of some use. But he was angry, and it would not worked anyway.

'I'll be all right,' she said, putting on the Invisibility Cloak around her so that only her head was visible. She had spoken looking at Harry, but she could not help herself and glanced at Ron, who was not looking at her.

Harry patted her invisible back affectionately.

'We know you will.'

And she disappeared before opening the door.

* * *

The fact that lunch was over and Hermione had not shown up, when they had agreed that midday was the time to return safely to Grimmauld Place, did nothing to change Ron's first apprehensive thoughts.

He had been restless all the morning, and when Kreacher served a delicious meal, the absence of Hermione acted like a padlock in the pit of his stomach.

Harry was concerned too, but he forced himself not to think the worst. He knew—he hoped—that Hermione would not get herself in danger.

At last, the door opened. Ron had been pacing nervously up and down the hallway for the past forty minutes, for which his tall figure was the first thing Hermione's eyes found when they got used to the change of light.

He closed his eyes and sighed in relief. His face was slightly greenish, but it regained its natural colour as Hermione walked further into the house, bearing the jinxes against Snape without a word.

Ron followed her close behind and caught her by one arm before she could head down to the kitchen.

'Will you bloody tell me what happened to you?'

'I was planning on doing so once I found Harry as well!' she snapped, suddenly upset by his grip. She tried to tug her arm free, with no success. 'What is the matter with you? All right, if you want to know, I hid in a passageway to listen to a pair of wizards before they Disapparated, but they spoke longer than I was willing to hear and I couldn't leave without being discovered.'

'They spoke longer than you were willing to hear?' Harry asked, appearing from the kitchen.

'Yes, apparently one of them had been sick for a while and they had to catch up... I had to listen to a very disgusting story of pus and horns that rendered me without any appetite.'

Harry laughed relieved, but Ron stayed scowling at her.

'But at least I found a good spot to eavesdrop safely and bits of information that will help,' Hermione continued.

Ron could not speak to her alone until several hours later after Harry went to have a bath.

'Don't do that again, will you?' he said under his breath, gathering the notes they had scribbled earlier to allow Kreacher to set the table for dinner.

'What is it?'

Hermione looked defiantly at him.

'Being stupid, that is!' he blurted. 'Making us think that you had been caught! If we said we have to come back before lunchtime, that's when we _all_ have to come back, instead of playing daredevil and—'

'I wasn't playing daredevil, Ron. I didn't stay long on purpose!'

'But you should have considered what we might think when you didn't show up! We've been talking about how dangerous this is, that it's precise that we act carefully—'

'I know that! I would die if you or Harry didn't return! But I didn't do anything reckless!'

Hermione rounded the table to stand in front of him.

'I didn't want you to go wandering alone through the Ministry on our first day here, either. Do you remember what you said to me? You said that danger is something we have to get used to. And that's what I'm trying to do. I'm not putting myself in danger on purpose.'

Ron sat on a chair at random, looking away.

'I'm as in much danger as you or Harry. Well, not as much as Harry, to be honest. I couldn't sit here, waiting for the two of you to appear or not. It's my cause as well.'

Her voice felt rather strained and so did her body. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and stared at Ron. Whenever he cared about something, but especially about her, he put his heart, his mind, his soul into it; he gave it all away. She hated to see that look of frustration and impotency when he knew there was nothing he could do. But he needed to understand.

He finally got to his feet again and spoke.

'You look tired. Sit here,' he said quietly, gesturing towards the chair he had just vacated.

She sighed. More than anything, she wanted him to hug her.

More than anything, he wanted to hug her.

Would a hug be part of what they were not supposed to do if they wanted to go slowly? There were hugs and _hugs_, of course. The right move would have been a comforting hug, Hermione thought as she took a seat. But what she really wanted was to be embraced by those long arms, to be caressed by them without worrying about what would happen tomorrow. Unfortunately, she _had_ to worry about what would happen tomorrow if she allowed him to get that close. Unless she took out her heart and put it away, she would never be able to kiss him and carry on as if nothing had happened.

Hermione remembered the tale of the warlock's hairy heart and shuddered.

* * *

Ron was sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, in the gloomy light of the gas lamps, by the time Hermione decided to go up to bed. She had seen him leave after Harry a while ago, and she thought he had aimed for his own bed.

'You've been quiet all day.'

He looked up and tried to smile.

'And why are you complaining?'

Unsure about sitting down next to him, Hermione simply leant back against the wall.

'It's because Harry saw your dad today, isn't it?'

'Yeah.'

'Well, at least... at least you know he's al—all right,' she said, quickly changing the word she was about to use.

'I reckon, yes. That isn't very reassuring, though. I don't know what's going on with the rest of my family.'

'That makes two of us. I don't know how my parents are doing either.'

Ron gave no answer. He really did not seem willing to talk.

'Is there anything else?'

'No.'

'You don't seem very convinced.'

'Hermione, do you realize how annoying you are right now?'

'Oh, I'm sorry for caring about you, then!'

Ron glared at her.

'Asking questions isn't a good way to care about me,' he said bitterly.

'You're upset with me.'

He did not answer immediately. If he was honest to himself, he was not angry with her. He was rather frustrated, with himself and the whole situation.

'No,' he concluded. 'I'm not upset with you.'

'But you're wondering.'

She finally gave up and dropped next to him.

'What's slowly?' he asked, somehow hopeful.

Hermione smiled sadly.

'I don't know. Believe me, I don't.'

Now he was upset with her. She _was_ driving him insane. Ever since the wedding, he had not been able to forget how close they had been. That distance that had always separated them with unspoken laws of friendship had suddenly vanished; her chest—her breasts—raising and falling against him; her lovely wild hair caressing his arms; all of the things that had become more noticeable to him of late had been close at hand. He had never thought it would be easy, but at least he would have liked to try... before she had suggested that they should take it slowly. He didn't even have a clue what that meant. Apparently, neither did she.

'Then go figure it out before bothering me with your stupid ideas, will you? There might be a book somewhere to help you,' Ron spat, standing up without looking at her.

Before he could move further away, Hermione held up a hand and let it fall hard on his cheek.

The look on his face changed from hurt to shock to furious, but then he looked just resigned.

'This isn't working.'

'No, it isn't. But you're not thinking too hard either!'

Hermione felt herself hissing as he attracted her by the waist, their hips naturally pulled together. He bent his head to look at her directly in the eye.

'Does this fit into slowly?'

'Not exactly, but—'

'Exactly. We better call it off, because it'll never be "slowly".'

Releasing her, the slightest lingering of his grip around her, Ron climbed upstairs into the darkness of the landing.


	5. Stubble Was Never Important

_Sorry for the delay, the five chapter is here :) Only one more to go, and my second posted multi-chapter fic will be over! I really should dare and post more multi-chapters..._

_Thanks for all the reviews! ^-^ This chapter is a bit R/M rated, although nothing explicit. However, if you're under 16 years old, you can get the hell outta here ;) (I know times have changed, but I'm old fashioned, and away with promiscuity!)_

_The wonderful Lectura35 helped me with some of those scenes *hugs her*  
_

_x  
_

* * *

**Chapter 5: Stubble Was Never Important**

A long, brown bush of hair hurried past the bathroom's open door, skidded a foot ahead and peered awkwardly when she stepped back.

'You're shaving.'

Ron looked sideways with his eyebrows raised, the lower side of his face lathered. Hermione was staring at the razor suspended in mid-air in front of him with a curious expression.

''Course I am, were you expecting to see Kreacher doing it for me?'

'No, I didn't.' She could not tell him that she would rather not have him shave his cheeks when they became rough. But she had to say something. Very aware of how silly she was about to sound, Hermione added, 'It's just that... well, I've never seen you, or Harry, shave before,'

It was true. Hermione often had to remind herself that she wasn't the only one who was seventeen. Harry and Ron were seventeen too. They had grown up together, not fully conscious of the changes time brought along. In any case, it was just an excuse, something to say. Watching Ron frown with his foamy face and waiting for her to pronounce a word, she felt the urge to laugh at herself.

'So?' Ron asked, turning again towards the mirror and the razor, which he tapped with his wand to continue shaving his face. 'What's so marvellous about it?'

The exchange of their last meeting had not been forgotten, even though that had been days ago. They had avoided any more encounters without Harry nearby, even though Hermione knew it wasn't right. It had been huge to be ignored.

'Well, I don't know... it'd be odd if you grew up a beard, wouldn't it?' she leaned against the door frame.

'You can wash my pants, but you find it odd to see me shaving?' Ron snorted.

'I had to pack your stuff, Ron,' Hermione retorted, turning faintly red. 'You should be grateful that I did, you wouldn't even be here without a stock of clean underwear!'

'Okay,' Ron raised his eyebrows again in an amused state. He couldn't smile, not with the razor so close to his lips. 'You could have minded to pack my razor, then, couldn't you?'

'Oh, is that Harry's?'

'Yeah.'

'I'm sorry; I didn't know which one was yours.'

Ron waved in hand as only response and tilted his head backwards to let the razor slide down his throat. At least they were talking civilly again.

'And also... you can't believe I can grow a beard, but the magnificent Krum is old enough as to do it?' Ron growled, glancing sideways.

Hermione looked struck for a moment, gaping as she searched her mind for whatever Ron was referring to. It was useless; she had to give up.

'Ron, will you tell me what are you talking about?'

'You can't pretend you didn't see him.' At Hermione's lack of reaction and his ears turning red, he added, 'Krum! His stubble, at the wedding! Hermione, are you serious?'

But Hermione was now clutching at her ribs in a fit of laughter. Ron, astonished, turned to face her, forgetting the moving razor in front of his face. A streak of blood crossed his cheek at the same time that Hermione shrieked in panic and ran to snatch the razor away from him. Instead, the enchanted device folded over itself trying to chop off Hermione's fingers. She backed and fell on her knees trying to shake it away, but Ron lunged for his wand and pointed it to the razor. It fell to the floor with a clashing noise. A thunder of footsteps preceded a shout of, 'Ron! Hermione, what's happened?'

'N—nothing, Harry,' panted Ron, kneeling to examine Hermione's bloody fingers. 'Accident, your razor is effing sharp.'

'Do you need any help?' asked Harry in a bad mood, now that he knew it was not real danger.

'No, it's fine,' Hermione replied shakily, running her wand over her fingers, and the wounds were immediately healed.

'Then please do me a favour and stop doing nonsense before you slice each other's head,' Harry snapped, turning round and disappearing upstairs.

Hermione looked at Ron, scared at their friend's temper, but Ron shook his head in sympathy.

'He's just worried, that's all. Being shut in this house... like Sirius, you know... er, do you reckon you can heal this?' he dabbed the cut on his face and winced slightly. 'It stings.'

'I'm so sorry, Ron!' whinned Hermione, flicking her wand in Ron's direction twice to clean the blood as well. 'I didn't mean this to happen, I—I even forgot—why was I laughing?'

'I hope it was because of Krum's stubble and not at me.' Ron rubbed his now smooth cheek.

'Oh, that.' Hermione rolled eyes but did not laugh this time. 'You want to know what's funny about that?'

'I'd like to,' Rom mumbled, resentful.

'It's funny how you can remember quite well Viktor's appearance at the wedding, while _I_ didn't set my eyes on him that evening, not even for a minute.'

Ron did not answer; he got to his feet and opened the tap to wash his face properly.

From the floor, Hermione cried, 'No, I didn't! I was with you, in case you don't remember!'

'Otherwise what, you'd have danced and all with him, right? I should have guessed it, that perhaps you were looking forwards to welcome him back to England.'

'That's not true and you know it! There's no _otherwise_!'

'Look, Hermione, I've always known that you two kissed, even while you sold us the story of the Tournament being to encourage friendship. So you don't have to explain anything to me,' he snapped, wiping his face with a towel.

'Of course I don't have to explain anything to you, Ron, not after you ditched me before Slughorn's party for a snog session with Lavender Brown. Not that I care, but since we're talking here about explanations—'

'Call it even, then, whatever.' Ron shrugged, walking to the door. Hermione jumped to her feet, blocking it. She seemed resolute to have the last word.

'For your information, Mr. I-give-a-damn, I was fifteen, a boy had just told me that he fancied me and he didn't eat my face right under your nose.' Hermione poked him on his chest. 'So you should reconsider what's even and what's not, when you realise that last Saturday I was seventeen, a boy had just asked me for the very first time to dance with him, with some luck even noticing that I _am_ a girl, and I didn't have to think it twice before willingly spending my evening with him... with _you_, Ron!'

And with a last furious glance, she turned on the spot and Disapparated to her bedroom.

'Hermione,' called Ron a few seconds later, knocking at her door. 'Hermione, listen... okay, I regret saying that and... We don't have to fight, remember? We're in this together and, eh... please, open the door.'

But after several minutes of knocking and calling, Ron gave up, said goodnight and walked to his own bedroom, which was next to hers. He threw himself on the bed, confusing feelings whirling inside him, claiming for an explanation. Of course Ron had not forgotten about the wedding. How, after Hermione's first expression of surprise, she had taken his hand without a word and they'd had a blissful time dancing. She never suggested returning to the table, with the others, nor mentioned Krum, nor showed any sign of being uncomfortable. And what happened later...

Some landings upstairs, Harry stopped throwing his pillow up in the air once the shouting ceased, glad that another pointless bickering session was over.

But the times of going to bed mad at each other, trying to swallow a lot of unsaid things, were over, Hermione thought. She got off the bed and walked out of the bedroom; it was her turn to knock and plead.

However, nobody answered at her calls of, 'Ron, I'm here, can you open the door?' He could have been fast asleep, as usual. Or having his comeuppance at her.

Finally, she stopped knocking and took a deep breath. When she was about to leave, Ron appeared in the staircase at the end of the landing.

They locked eyes for a moment, and then she stared mesmerized at some point over his lips where a drop of something was glistening. His gorgeous, pink, desirable lips. How many hours had she spent dreaming about them, dreaming about how it would feel to have his breath mingled with hers?

'Where have you been?'

'Went to the kitchen for some milk. Kreacher heard me and heated it for me. Then he offered me some biscuits, and I had to stop him before he started cooking...'

Milk. So the sparkle over his mouth was milk. And Hermione felt herself flush because all she wanted to do at that exact instant was snog his face off just with a nip.

Ron followed her gaze and blushed himself.

'...and well, then it just occurred to me that—'

Enough was enough. She felt capable of anything in that moment so, rejecting any cautious thought, she just followed her heart and the blissful boldness that it carried.

Hermione stepped forwards and kissed him softly, cutting his chatter. But just as she had feared, and disregarded, Ron took her by the shoulders and parted. Trying to hold back the tears, she looked at him, furious and hurt.

'Hermione, you just ruined what I was about to say.'

'What was it?'

'That I... eh, I regret what I said.'

Smiling, Ron took her face in his hands and kissed her back. One of her hands covered his and the other punched him softly on the shoulder. Their lips burnt, their arms embraced each other, and their bodies were so close that they could feel each other's chests rising heavily.

Irresistible images flashed trough Hermione's mind. Some of them were part of her life with Ron, all the memories that had leaded them to that precise moment, to that precise breath. Others were her very private dreams, those places where only she had access to and where Ron had cemented his irrevocable presence during their whole history together.

'What happened to taking it slowly?' Ron whispered in her ear, brushing it with his lips.

Against what he would have wanted, she pulled apart and looked at him, scared.

'I was kidding, I—'

'Ron, I think... What if we...? What if this is only a biological urge and...? Well, you know, if we can get rid of it, we could wait till all this ends for something more... stable.'

He stared at her for a moment, his lips parted, to let his mind understand what she had meant.

'You want to...?'

He got no response: Hermione was biting her bottom lip and staring at the floor, lost in her sudden fears. Ron joined her: she might be right. He wanted to be with her, in any possible way, but he could not have what he really wanted. If they were together, at least one night...

Ron had dreamed about that one night since…. forever. Only that in his fantasies, they finally were a couple. An official couple. Maybe for blokes it should be simpler; the truth was that between them simplicity was not even an option. A relationship was complicated, making love was complicated, and leaving her in the morning was going to be the hardest thing he would face in all his life. But how could he deny himself to her? It was not a possibility. It just wasn't in him.

'A biological urge... it does make sense,' he said in a low voice, startling her slightly.

'I'm just saying...'

He put his arms around her and their lips met again, first softly, then deepening the kiss. All the clouds in Hermione's mind were pushed away. She really needed to, she wanted to stop thinking and feeling about what could never happen.

Her feet were lifted inches from the floor, and she suddenly felt pinned against the wall. Ron lips were all over her now and she held on him as her warm breath tickled the hairs of his nape. She could feel every part of his body proclaiming what she did to him, what she meant to him.

How could this be wrong? If they were making such a huge mistake, why was she feeling like bursting with love and emotion? All they hadn't said to each other was heavier than all voiced words and, in a weird and unique way, Hermione felt the unspoken commitment was even deeper than any open confession.

Hermione felt the handle of Ron's bedroom door thrusting on her back and she groped behind her to open it. When she was inside, she held up a hand, panting.

'Wait... we mustn't be reckless...'

She pointed her wand under her stomach and made a flowery movement. Then the wand was put in her dressing gown and it fell on the floor as Ron lifted her again.

His five older brothers had never prepared him for that, neither her long friendship with books and knowledge. It was very possible to learn about sex, but there was no way in hell that anything prepared them for that heat.

There were only soft cries of want, wetness, and steam all around them. The world started and ended with each ground against each other, with each pleasurable gasp of delight, and with the utter certainty that the place were they belonged was there, sliding their lips and hands in search of release.

Probably those so desired words were forbidden for the moment, but both of them were going to brand their lover's skin just like they had branded their souls and their hearts. And that was not forbidden at all.

Ron lowered her onto his bed, and his hands groped awkwardly under her pyjama top, pulling it over her head; she did the same with his shirt. When her shorts were off too, he made a last effort to withdraw his arms from around her waist and, lifting himself to look at her, he asked, 'Are you sure?'

He knew his sanity was abandoning him; his clear mind gone, all full of Hermione's shapes, her smell, her touches, her noises...

'Yes.'

* * *

The thick, dusty curtains barely let a beam of moonlight inside the murky room, bathing the group of brown freckles on Ron's bare shoulder, which were being circled by Hermione's finger.

'Do you reckon,' Ron asked her after several minutes of silence, 'that this is one of those things that panic and fear about what might happen lead people to do? Sort of like what my mother said last year?'

'Definitely,' Hermione sighed, still without looking directly into his eyes. 'We're not supposed to be here, this should have been so much different... I mean—'

'I know what you mean,' Ron replied quietly. 'This is not the place or the right time. Seems almost inappropriate. I would have liked to ask you out first, and... and have normal dates with you before, and be back at Hogwarts, where we could be ourselves.'

Ron felt something wet trickling down his forearm.

'Yes, that's how it should have been.'

'What will happen now?'

Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head.

'We've screwed it, I guess. We're helping Harry; we've got to focus on what we came to do. Harry can't know about this; he'd feel even more secluded.'

'I'm talking about us.'

'It's us I'm talking about, too, Ron. We can't continue this, we can't have a... a relationship, not now,' Hermione gazed up at him with her eyes full of tears. 'This can't happen now; it will hurt us at some point. You and me... we can't be together now.'

'You can't ask me to forget about this, Hermione,' Ron complained, unable to say anything else, as he wiped off the tears on her cheek.

'It's that this shouldn't have happened in the first place between us!'

'Then let's be someone else. We are not ourselves, anyway. If I can't be with you by who you are, then... then, right now, you're any brunette witch. And I'm any red-haired wizard. Is that enough?'

Hermione brushed aside her bushy hair from her face and snuggled against his neck, feeling his heartthrob.

'Only for tonight.'


	6. The Brunette Witch and the Redhaired

_Well, here we are... the last chapter! Thanks once again to everybody for reading, reviewing and faving :D I'm so thrilled! This story gave me lots of headaches, but it was also very fun to write and I loved doing it, so I'm happy to see that other people liked it as well._

_So this is the morning after. Do you want to see how they feel toward each other now? How this will be from now on? Who will be the most stubborn? Keep reading, then! And at the end of the story, there's a little surprise ;)_

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Brunette Witch and the Red-haired Wizard**

She woke up the next morning alone on the bed and wrapped only with the blankets. After getting dressed, she reached for her dressing gown, which was hanging on the back of a chair, and Disapparated to the bathroom.

'Good morning, Harry,' said Hermione when she entered to the kitchen. Then, trying to sound unconcerned, she added, 'Where is Ron?'

'Gone to the Ministry; it was his turn, remember?' Harry replied, as he read the _ Daily Prophet_ from the previous day, but he left it aside to examine Hermione's face. 'Are you okay? You look... did you have any sleep?'

'I'm fine,' she answered, trying to smile.

'Is it about—what happened last night?' he asked unwillingly.

Hermione choked over her coffee and flushed violently, trying to hide her face under a napkin.

'Sorry, I heard you and Ron fighting again,' Harry said, missing how red Hermione's visage had become. 'Was it you or him this time?'

'Oh—that—that was... neither, or both. Everything is back to normal, Harry. Really,' she managed to say.

'Maybe you haven't realized, Hermione, but "back to normal" referring you two means constant bickering,' Harry tried not to sound too reproachful, but that was it.

'I know, I... suppose that's us, right?' She felt more miserable saying that, but she gave him a feeble, sad smile.

'I don't think it should be,' Harry said sharply, 'but I hope you two can figure it out. Now... d'you have the map I gave you last night? We have to complete it with these new sketches.'

'Yes, I think it's here in my pocket...'

Hermione thrust her hand in one of the pockets of her dressing gown, took out the rolled parchment, and handed it to Harry; but then she groped again for the second thing she had brushed past. There was a smaller piece of parchment, which she extracted and read under the table. It was a folded paper where Ron's calligraphy read on the front face of it: "To the brunette witch. From the red-haired wizard." Even though she was curious to read what it said inside, she put it back in her pocket and helped Harry with the maps.

Once they finished, she used the time while Harry went back to the newspaper to take out Ron's note once more.

"It wasn't a biological urge."

She could not help but jump off her chair and stagger to the doorway; Harry saw her, and suddenly scared, called her back.

'Hermione, what's wrong?'

'I... I need to... bathroom,' she managed to say. He did not prevent her from having some minutes to herself; after all, he was the first on to do so.

Hermione rushed upstairs and slumped onto the bathroom floor, clutching the note to her chest and allowing her eyes to flood with tears.

_Damn you, Ron, couldn't you just keep that to yourself?_

* * *

Half the kitchen table was covered with pieces of parchments and other stuff that Hermione had taken out of her handbag by the time Ron stepped into the basement kitchen. It wasn't long after Hermione had come out of the bathroom with her eyes slightly glossy. He looked tired, but when he attempted a smile for her, she gave no sign of having seen him except throwing the handbag on the table with unexpected violence and a great deal of thuds.

During lunch, as Ron talked, she barely took part in the conversation, but from time to time she grabbed one of the maps and sketches and took notes.

They kept discussing and improving their carefully schemes until seven in the afternoon, when Kreacher announced that dinner was ready. Hermione had made her best to come back to her old self; however, this included addressing Ron in a too formal fashion that Harry associated to all their after-fights.

'She hasn't forgiven you for last night?' Harry asked, catching Ron scolding at the door through which Hermione had disappeared to the bathroom. He turned so abruptly that Harry jumped on his seat.

'Last night? Did you—? What about last night?' he stammered.

'Well, I heard you two sharing a bit of yelling.' Ron sighed in relief without Harry noticing. 'I don't know what you did. She said everything was "back to normal", but she hasn't looked at you more than the necessary. Mate, haven't you learned the essentials from that book of yours?'

'What book?' Ron frowned.

'The one you gave me... _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways_... Never mind, listen,' Harry talked fast, anticipating Hermione's return. 'I'd give you thumbs up in any other circumstances, but seeing our current position I've got to ask you that, for the sake of the three of us, don't make any serious move for now. And by this I mean... since you've done nothing while you could, now—'

But Harry's long-winded speech was cut by the sound of Hermione's footsteps on the stone stairs leading to the kitchen. He hurried to get fork and knife and praise Kreacher's shepherd's pie, leaving Ron frowning to himself as Hermione took a seat well away from him.

* * *

When Hermione did not answer his knocks on her bedroom door after dinner, Ron decided she wasn't there. He went down a floor, and found her in the drawing room.

Hermione tried to go over the list of things they were going to need that she had written down, but her eyes were focused in a spot beyond the paper and this world. She did not look up when he entered the room, but her mind returned to Grimmauld Place.

'Harry went to bed,' Ron said, standing in front of her on the sofa with his hands in his pockets.

'And?'

'I think we need to talk.'

He sat next to her.

'Last night was a mistake,' he started. There was something in his voice that Hermione did not like. He sounded reproachful but at the same time he sounded hurt.

'Because...?' she asked, far from eager to hear his answer. She knew it had been a mistake: in fact, she had come to that conclusion as she considered whether to go on or stop. But then again, she had promised to herself that they would not continue it in the morning, that there would be no reproaches. And yet, that did not prevent her from feeling sad and guilty and alone that morning.

'Because it wasn't enough.'

She met his eyes with equal reproach.

'Really? You need to sleep with me again, is that it?'

'No!' Ron snapped, getting to his feet again and glaring at her. 'I don't want just to sleep with you, Hermione! I wouldn't have cared about that if you hadn't pushed me into it. I didn't want to have one night with you and then nothing!'

She looked away, trying to hide the tears. The sight of him was unbearable. He always got to her in his so-Ron way. There he was, telling her he wanted more. His statement melted and infuriated her at same time. As if there was any part of her that was not already his…

'Do you want me to say that I'm sorry to have forced you into doing something you didn't want to? That I regret it and it was my entire fault?'

Ron gave a sarcastic laugh.

'When I thought I knew you well, Hermione... I thought it was clear.'

Of course it was clear to her: the way he had kissed her, the way his hands had caressed her, every movement that seemed to be planned. He had not possessed her, he had loved her, washing away all the doubts she had about his feelings and increasing her own.

'It was clear for me,' Ron said at last.

'I'm sorry, Ron!' she cried, standing up. Her hands closed in fists, she left them fall limply at her sides. 'It is clear, but that's why—that's why we're doing it wrong. We weren't supposed to let that take over us! It was supposed to be a... a way to hold it, to know what we can have if we make it through this mess!'

Looking miserable and torn for real, she just made him ache in the worst way. And the comforting hug he gave her reminded him of her bare skin against his own.

Ron could not avoid her kisses; he led her back to the sofa and leant over her. This time everything he did had a different colour; he dared to do more. Now there seemed to be a certain urge. He desperately craved for the perfect connection he knew was waiting for them when every single piece of clothing was out of the way.

When Hermione replied, with the same impatient force, he whispered, 'That's what you want, meaningless sex?' Hermione did not answer. She felt over the clouds, and his angry tone only increased her need. They bickered in life and they bickered in bed. It was clear that the spark produced by their disagreement was going to take the present encounter to a new place, a place more like them.

Ron was breathing heavily and a bit shocked by his own actions and her bold response. He wanted to do to her things that made him blush, but he sensed Hermione was waiting for them, eager to match his audacity. She looked totally lost in lust and—oh, how he felt it!—in love. He took advantage of her moment of distraction to undress her.

After that, there were no more coherent thoughts.

* * *

With the dim light of the gas lamps, Ron put his tee back on and squeezed himself back into the sofa with Hermione; she was now fully dressed but breathing hard, her face hidden. Ron rubbed her back and stared at her. Hermione Granger, the only person he never thought he could be with, the only person he needed, was giving him all and nothing at the same time.

'It can never be meaningless between us, Hermione.'

'I didn't mean that,' Hermione murmured, and she felt the cold on her neck where his fingers were not tracing lovely patters anymore.

When she opened her eyes, Ron was gone.

* * *

He had barely lain down when a dark figure appeared in the doorway.

'Can I sleep here?'

He made room for her on the single bed and, silently, Hermione climbed next to him. He carefully avoided touching her. Hermione slid a hand over his arm and pressed her forehead against his shoulder.

'You're torturing me,' Ron said dryly.

'It's torturing me too.'

'I'm not sure why that is, exactly.'

Hermione let out an angry hiss. Sitting up on the bed, she put her arms on each side of Ron and glared at him from above.

'You can't see why, can you? You never can—I think you're a different person and I trust you and I admit lots of things I didn't even think about, and then you scamper back to your old self! Do you know how frustrating that is?'

Ron pulled himself up between her stretched arms, leaning inches away from her nose.

'Hell I do, when I've been trying to show you all summer long, all the time, Hermione, trying to make you trust me and bring you to me, and you plainly ignoring it all—'

Hermione's lids flashed and two sparkly spots appeared in the corner of her eyes, challenging the strength with which she tried to hold them back.

'You keep thinking that I ignored you... Then you think I'm here for nothing, right? That I'm right here, that last night, and a while ago, I was with you because... what? Can you explain me what am I doing here, or what are _you_ doing with me?'

Taking her by the arms, Ron pulled himself free and slipped out of the bed.

'I'm not playing with you, if that's what you mean. And I don't think that you're playing with me either, or that you ignore me. I'm sorry to have said that.'

He had hardly thought of _the book_ in the light of recent events, but standing out in the dark mess of his mind, a title in flowery characters appeared before him.

_Chapter 8: GIVE ME HONESTY, I'LL GIVE YOU THE WORLD_

Hermione gazed up questioningly.

'I've got to tell you something.'

Ron ventured a glance before continuing, only to see Hermione swallowing and giving a curt nod.

'The twins... They dared me to kiss you, while we were at the Burrow. I don't know why or whether they were planning it, 'cause they even gave me a book—'

'The book you didn't want to tell me what was about?'

Hermione had suddenly spoken in a cool voice under which rage expanded in ripples.

Ron rubbed his hands on the legs of his pyjamas, to dry the sweat.

'I actually didn't care much about the book at that moment.' He smiled, more to himself since she had turned away her gaze. 'And to tell you the truth, I only opened it in the summer, with the hope that—'

'What was the book about?' Hermione snapped.

'Basic understanding of girls,' Ron answered promptly. 'You know that I've always been clueless about—'

'You accepted the dare?'

_Honesty_, Ron remembered, suppressing an impatient sigh.

'Yes. I won't deny that. I—'

'I get it all, now. You found every way to disarm girls' mechanisms of defence in that charming book of yours, used it on me, trying to be supporting and chivalrous while you took advantage of my state, and you got way more than a kiss.'

Hermione had jumped out of the bed too and backed away from him, pale visage and sparkling eyes, but throwing him a revolted look.

'All because of a bet, right? The twins will be so proud of you... What did they promise to give you in return? You know what, better save me the details.'

Ron, who had been staring at her, aghast at her reaction, had temporarily lost all ability to form words.

'But you just gave a great performance, insinuating that I was hurting you. What, did you fall in love in the process?'

'Stop it,' he finally managed to say in a hoarse, cutting sound. 'Just stop, will you? I want to be honest with you. Can't you listen and let me finish for once, you stubborn know-it-all? They didn't promise me anything, and in case you have forgotten, I never attempted to kiss you. You bloody well did, and I didn't have to force you. Fred and George threatened me to do it, but I accepted only as a chance to see if I could get going with you, Hermione.'

As he talked, Hermione had remained still and soundless, save an outraged gasp after he had called her 'know-it-all'. However, her cheeks had regained colour, turning several shades of red, and she hugged her elbows for comfort.

'So... you didn't want to kiss me?'

Ron snorted.

'Blimey, I've wanted to for at least three years!'

'I mean,' Hermione raised her voice over his, although her eyes had widened with his last statement, 'that you didn't intend to fulfil the—the dare. If you—if... Why not go for it?'

'Because...' Ron slightly raised his arms as to support his arguments, but he dropped them once more as he found none. 'I dunno. I didn't know if you wanted me, and even less knowing we were coming here... I was only hoping you'd let me be there, as... er, well, as a friend, and maybe...'

He sat down again on the bed, leaning back against the wall and scratching his chin for distraction. He did not hear or see her coming and sitting next to him, taking his hand between hers.

'About time you gave a bloody coherent response, witch.'

The corner of her mouth twitched, but Hermione did not laugh.

'You were right. It wasn't a biological urge we just needed to fulfil and be done with it. How do we follow from now on?'

Ron stared at her long and fully.

'It's always been up to you. What do you want?'

Reducing the distance between them, she gently pulled his head down to her lips, fidgeting with the red hair on his nape.

On the account of two nights, they had kissed more times they could tell. Not once Hermione had felt so free, so sure and so irremediably lost in those lips as she felt now, devouring his passion with hers. Ron was lying on his back and her head was hidden in the crook of his neck by the time she regained her senses.

'I want you to say you won't leave me. I want to stay with you every night, but not as a stranger. I do want you, I've always have,' she whispered below his ear.

'I'll never leave you—'

'No,' she suddenly cut him off. As she had done before, she lifted her head to look at him with concerned eyes, holding her hair aside. 'Don't say never. Ron, I need you to see how it is... Neither of us can grant a "never", not while we are in this. One of us... either of us could... could die, and there's nothing we can do about it. We'd need to carry on and help—help bring You-Know-Who down.' Her voice faltering, she pushed on. 'If we get through this alive... it'd be different. We'd have time to think... Right now, though, I'm not asking for an "always forever", I only want you to say that—'

'I won't leave you,' he said laconically, attracting her to him once again and kissing her temple. 'As long as I stay alive is all right?'

'Yes. Sounds like a good plan.'

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, before saying, 'We shouldn't tell Harry... I mean, I won't feel all right hiding from him all the time, but—'

'He'd feel lonely, yeah. I've thought of it, too. And... he's thought of it too, I reckon.'

'He... suspects anything?'

'He foresees.'

Cradling her in his arms, Ron rolled on top of her and brushed the hair out of her face, caressing her features, making her feel vibrant under his touch.

'You've never been a... a stranger to me. I don't think I could have got it with you if you weren't who you are.'

'Not just a brunette witch?'

'No. Hermione.'

She smiled and looked down, her face turning pink as she spoke.

'Even though I had thought of this before, I believed it would be really odd if we ever... if we ever started something. But you made me forgot about all of that. Time really stops.'

Her heart was hammering against his ribs when he bent to kiss her again.

'And it was with you, Ron, not with any red-haired wizard.'

THE END

* * *

Yay! Now it's over, I can tell you that this and many other lenghty RHr stories were previously posted at **rhrlove[dot]com**, and this wasn't a challenge only for writers, but also for artists. Each of us had the pleasure to see one or more scenes from our stories in the form of fanart, which is what I want to share with you :)

**redheadsarehot** illustrated a scene for the third chapter, which maybe you'll recognise; check it at **community[dot]livejournal[dot]com[slash]rhr_bigbang_art[slash]4256[dot]html**

And **wordsmithsonian** illustrated the first chapter! See the art at **community[dot]livejournal[dot]com[slash]rhr_bigbang_art[slash]1813[dot]html**

Now I strongly advise you to head to **rhrlove[dot]com **for more RHr love!

Thanks for reading! x**  
**


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